


Love is not Love; Which alters when it alteration finds

by Angemicwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: American Civil War, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Rome, Angst, Crusades, Death, Different Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, History, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Other, Reincarnation, Sacrifice, Sexual Content, Soulmates, Time - Freeform, Tudor England, World War II, the new world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angemicwings/pseuds/Angemicwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel discovers the love story between him and Dean transcends time itself.  His memories of past lives return to him and he remembers past lives with Dean in all different times and different relationships.  It helps him make a decision that will affect the rest of his life.</p><p>This is how Castiel learns that love never changes as long as you stay true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the hardest story I have ever written and it has taken weeks. I would like to give a massive shout out to Kaleb (Silent-Asmodeus on tumblr) for his constant help with me bouncing ideas and hysteria for the past month of writing this from an idea I had on a chocolate high. Also thank you Kaleb for the fantastic book cover that he has done.
> 
> I don't own supernatural or any of the characters but I do own the storylines of each little story. It is told from a certain perspective and I apologise for any mistakes but please just bear with me. I have worked so hard on this, it is the longest and most ambitious Dean/Cas fic I have ever wrote.
> 
> The basic gist is that Dean and Castiel have lived numerous lives together. This is the story how.
> 
> Warning: Dean and Cas change sexes throughout this story. I am using this to illustrate love.
> 
> I really hope someone enjoys it. So here we go.

[ ](http://s27.photobucket.com/user/Gemdrops/media/bookcover.jpg.html)

 

 

You love him.  You realise this now just as you hold your grace in yourself, ready to yank it free, rip it from you.  Because you love him and always have loved him.  Just you never have truly remembered how much you loved him.

You thought you remembered everything in your existence but you are wrong.   You have loved him over and over again but never realised each love was lost till now.  Only when you reach into your grace and find a part of his soul and you realise it has never changed in your lives together.  You have had different vessels both of you, but you always recognise his soul.   Each life, each love has been ripped from you but now on the precipice of ripping out your grace you realise that you have loved him many a time before now.  Though you have never remembered.

Till now.

You love him and now you remember, you realise you have always been destined to be with him, because you remember, you remember it all.


	2. Part One- Egypt

The first time you loved him you were dazzled by his authority and splendor. He is Pharaoh, you are his architect, he is everything despite the fact you love your wife Meg and adore your daughter Claire, the girl adores you too she looks at you like you look at Pharaoh. 

Pharaoh demands your love and also that you design him a glorious monument in his name. This monument that will be celebrated in the event of his death and long after it. You spend time with him and despite your fear; one wrong word uttered could mean death to you and your family. You discover Pharaoh is a good man, a righteous man. He is a just ruler but seems to think that he will die young and so orders his great monument when he inherits his throne in his young age.

His hair would be dark if not shaven, his skin like the shell of a polished wood, but his eyes so unusual for a Pharaoh are as green as the Nile in spring. It is these eyes that you are mesmerised by, you have seen them wrinkle when he smiles and laughs, you have seen them puzzled and you have also seen them in anger.

You have seen every emotion in those green eyes and you dream of them at night. You work too hard at the plans of his tomb, you heart aches at the thought of a world without Pharaoh. You are just an architect; you are not a rich man but Pharaoh showers money and glory upon you. It means your daughter can have a good life and dowry. Your wife can live comfortably.

But the wealth and prestige mean nothing to you. It means nothing compared to the moments that you share with Pharaoh. You talk now as if here were a normal man at market or temple, Pharaoh commands it this way. You laugh and drink together and share stories of your families. Not just that, but Pharaoh listens to your stories and never looks bored.

The first time he touches you, you almost faint, your whole body burns and you realise this is how it feels to be touch by a living God. A God on Earth. But the touches become an often recurrence. Brushes of his hand upon your shoulder, your back and fingers that brush against your hand. You never dare return these touches. He is Pharaoh, he is sacred and you are unable to touch him even if you heart constantly tells you to do so.

You never get bored of looking into his eyes, you never tire of his voice and you constantly want to be in his presence even when you are, only for minutes then have to wait days before you see him again. Meg is now distant with you, she misses you in your bed but now you are so acutely aware of everything Pharaoh wants for his monument that you never find yourself in your bed.

You try and listen to Meg but she always seems tired of you half listening to her conversation. With this new found wealth, she wants another child but you cannot give her a child not now, not when Pharaoh demands you.

You feel you will never be able to refuse him; you would give him anything and channel that energy into making the monument in his glory the best the kingdom has ever seen. You know that when Pharaoh dies that you too shall die for nobody can know the paths inside his tomb. 

You are the only who will know where they are when they are built. So much treasure shall be there to guide Pharaoh to the afterlife. At first you are worried about leaving Meg and Claire; you worry how you would be able to die willingly for your Pharaoh.

But now you would not think of any other outcome, if you die before him you would feel robbed. You love him and cannot imagine a day without him.

It is days before the tunnels in the tomb are about to begin to be laid when Pharaoh summons you. As always you rush, palms sweaty and heartbeat rapidly beating in your chest, threatening to escape through your throat. His eyes take your breath away as always so you don’t immediately notice that he has dismissed his guards and you are entirely alone.  
He beckons for you to sit beside him, a smile tugging on his lips and you exclaim as he pours you a goblet of wine. He passes you the goblet and you skin tingles briefly as your fingers brush together and you are startled to see that he visibly jumps too.

You shake your head, he cannot feel the same as you do, and you chastise yourself, blaming your nerves and overactive imagination. He starts to ask you questions about your family, especially your daughter. You reply enthusiastically, the pride evident in your voice, because you are proud of your daughter; she is a beauty and is clever. Pharaoh listens patiently laughing at the humorous parts of your stories. 

You both relax and sip your wine, he tells you of stories of his youth when hunted with his younger brother, the heir to the throne, when they were young boys. You talk for hours and the sun is low in the sky when he turns to you and places his goblet down and looks at you with pained eyes.

With one sentence you feel the air leave your lungs and your heart seize like it has been frozen, you are being relieved of your duties as royal architect. You feel blood rushing in your ears and you barely hear Pharaoh explaining why. He feels too troubled knowing that if you died, Meg and Claire would suffer the anguish of losing a beloved husband and father. Since the tunnels to his chamber have not yet started to be built he can now release you for they will employ another older architect who will redesign the tunnels.  
You collapse to your knees at his feet and beg to be kept by his side. You have never initiated a touch between you both before, but you do now. You grab his feet and beg not to be sent from his service. You apologise for any misdemeanour that may have caused offence and you beg for forgiveness.

Tears roll down your face and you bath his feet with your salty tears, you plead and offer your own death as appeasement for any offences you may have caused. You feel your sobs seize in your throat as you feel hands glide across your shoulders and tuck under your chin, forcing it up. You are met with those green eyes you love so much inches away from you.

Pharaoh brushes your cheek and you can feel the breath, the breath of a living god on earth, the living star upon your own lips before he closes the distance and kisses you gently. You heart races in your chest for a second but then you relax into the kiss.

It is not like kissing Meg; it is like fire and ice all at once. It is beautiful and makes you want more and yet at the same time it makes you feel frightened and before you can think at all it is over.

Pharaoh brushes your tears away while gently telling you he could not live with the knowledge that after he died that you would be expected to die also. He, the man who could order anyone’s death could not bring himself to order yours. That he could not kill someone he loved.

Love. It makes you gasp and you are stunned, your eyes wide. Pharaoh gently kisses you again and tells you to be happy. Your role as Royal Architect may be over but you will want for nothing for as long as you and your daughter live, he tells you.

Before you can reply he is off his knees and yelling for the guards, you know then that you will never be in his presence again. That it is over. You bite back any tears and look into those beautiful green eyes one last time before bowing lowly. You stare at the marble floor as you hear Pharaoh walk away his soft feet upon the cold surface, you swear your heart breaks at that moment.

Ten years later, Pharaoh dies, at a relatively young age, there is massive mourning and his brother inherits the throne and the royal architect follows the dead pharaoh into the tomb.

Bitter tears roll down your cheeks as that architect is not you, you remember the kiss, and you remember his green eyes and honour his wish. You live on.


	3. Part Two- Rome

You are not free.  You are a slave and you are a whore.

You are owned by a vicious Crowley who owns many gladiators and a few whores, he makes his money by the deaths of young men, fighting in an arena for the pleasure of the mob of Rome.  You are a whore that solicits the gladiators he owns.  Crowley doesn’t think anything is below him and so you also fuck him too when he calls you.

You try to remember when you were a young girl, living in a village in Germania when the Romans invaded.  It did not take long for them to overrule your people.  A slave trader took one look at you and brought you to Rome.  There Crowley bought you when you were just a child.  He told you that you had a pretty face, icy blue eyes and long flowing blonde hair.  Romans like a bit of the unusual and exotic.  If you could call a young virgin girl from Germania exotic.

You have been owned by Crowley for over ten years and while you sleep with him, his main concern is making money from his Gladiators and so he keeps them happy.  He wryly notes that if he were living on such a knife edge of death all the time he would want a good fuck too before he died in the arena.

Crowley has not had many successful gladiators survive, he tries to train them well, doesn’t want them being ripped to shreds too soon or else it would be a waste of money.  He has a few successful ones but the majority end up dead, pissing themselves and begging for mercy.  The successful ones give Crowley money, hence why they get relatively good living conditions and if they prove themselves they get better beds, better food and the whores.

You are numb to sleeping with the gladiators; it is who you are now so you forget the little girl and accept with opened legs that you are a slut.  You have a bawdy sense of humour and sometimes have the gladiators fighting over who get you first.  Being a whore is your life and you are good at it, if you were not any good you would have no roof upon your head.

The day the brothers arrive you have just been in bed with Uriel one of the strongest gladiators who has a fight the next day and feels the need to have fucked you till you are sore.  Uriel is rough and likes to nearly throttle you. 

You leave his room with bruises around your neck and come dripping down your legs and walk gingerly down to the yard where everyone is watching the brothers from Britannia arrive.  You watch Crowley’s eyes gleam and you know that gleam, it is when he has bought a good purchase.   These boys must be special.

You finish fixing your dress and look up when the tallest man you have ever seen get out of the barred wagon.  His face is slightly bruised and there are chains that almost look like they are festering around his wrists.  His eyes are a bluey green and his hair is long and chocolate colour.  You are intrigued because you have heard of those Celts of Britannia and how vicious they can be. 

Then you see the next person leave and you swear that your heart skips a beat, which for a whore is quite idiotic.  He has a black eye and a busted lip but by all the gods they are beautiful eyes and gorgeous lips.  You feel your mouth loosen as you watch him stand in front of his brother despite the fact the giant towers over him.

He regards everyone with flinty eyes and a jut of a defiant jaw and you entranced by this man.  He clocks eyes with you for a second and you feel suddenly aware of what you must look like.  You are a whore it should not worry you because in no doubt in a few weeks you will be fucking him and his brother.

But you feel like he is judging you in that glimpse and you don’t know why you feel that way.  You feel you probably disgust him just as everything else does here.  You watch Crowley talk to them, telling them the usual prattle that if they served him well they could become great.  That they would be rewarded if they did not rebel. 

Women, men, wine, good food was all for the taking if they wanted to take it.  The brothers are silent as Crowley talks, defiance in their eyes.  You can tell that they would have been warriors of their clans back wherever they came from.  They have been ripped from all they know, their homes and families taken by an empire they despise.

They will not wish to join it, they will try and rebel and they will run and try to escape.

Which they do.

You are fucking Crowley, your eyes focused on the shadows cast by oil lamps on the ceiling when you hear the commotion and banging on Crowley’s door.  Crowley swears and stalks over to the door throwing it open.  A guard speaks a couple of words and you flinch when you hear Crowley’s roar.  He throws on a robe and tells you to stay where you are.  You grab a sheet to cover you as the door bangs open and the guards drag the brothers in throwing them on the ground. 

The giant has a broken nose and a graze on his forehead while the elder brother has another black eye and a cut on his cheek.  The pair looks carefree and still defiant; Crowley has killed previous slaves for trying to escape.  But they were never like these brothers.  These brothers are fighters and they have the ability to be great gladiators.

Crowley tells them this. He tells them to forget them to forget their homes, they are lost to them and the sooner they realise this the easier it will be for them.  You clutch your sheet to your chest as you listen to Crowley preach.

Sam is looking directly at Crowley, an angry glare in his eyes but Dean is looking around, taking in everything again and his gaze falls upon you.  You clutch tighter at your sheet but the gaze he gives you makes you feel like the sheet is no longer there.  There is a glimmer of disgust in his eyes when he looks to the bed then to Crowley.  Crowley follows his gaze and gives a cackle of a laugh informing him that if he wants to fuck you he has to start playing by the rules but until then everyone but the brothers can fuck you.

Dean’s jaw tightens and the glare he gives Crowley could kill.  You feel yourself blush for what feels like the first time in years back when you had innocence that this man could even want you.  But then you remember the disgust in Dean’s eyes and you tilt your jaw defiantly.  You throw your leg out of the sheet seductively and throw a sly glance up to Crowley who grins seductively and tells the guards to throw the brothers back in the cells for the night as he has business to attend to.

Dean glares at you as he gets dragged away and you force it to the back of your mind as Crowley resumes fucking you while muttering how these brothers will be the greatest gladiators he has ever owned, the best in Rome or the very death of him.

You watch the brothers over the next few weeks that drag into months; they have not given up but are resigned to their fate.  Just like the others here, time passes and they lose Balthazar a wisecrack of a fighter but the brothers are deemed ready for fights so Crowley will not lose too much money.

You find yourself watching Dean train when you have time; he is strict not only with his own training but his brother’s to the point that their fighting is polished.  Dean will not lose his brother in the arena.

You have to admit you get used to watching them train in between fucking Uriel, Gabriel, Crowley and Zachariah.  The brothers are not allowed whores yet but their chains have been removed.  You wonder if you will be of service to them when the time comes.   You wonder if Dean will want you and worry that he may not want you.  You are not sure why this bothers you so much or why you even care when the brothers go out to fight their latest clash but your eyes never leave Dean’s frame till he leaves the compound.

You surprise yourself that you worry till his return (victorious with his brother) you are no simpering maid.  You are a slut and have fucked in every way imaginable.  You have a foul mouth and have been known to get into fights with the other whores in the compound, scratching and slapping.

But you are drawn to Dean; you are quiet and have rarely ever been like this.  But then you realise you have never even spoken to him.  You realise you have watched him so much and he is always around.  He always seems to be lurking in the shadows when you leave someone’s bed and are stumbling back to your own and he is there watching with wary green eyes that seem to glow in the moonlight.

Crowley is pleased with the brother’s progress and decrees when they win their latest fight that they can have a whore for the night.  There are three whores and you are lined up for the brothers to choose.  Ruby and Meg flaunt themselves because a whole night with one of them is better than a night of fucking all the men in the compound.   And out of the three of them, one of them is going to get that short straw.

You are not selling yourself; normally you would be showing some flesh or saying something provocative.  Instead you stare at the ground and listen as Sam chooses Ruby and the pair go off into the darkness.  You are mentally preparing yourself of a night of being fucked all ways Sunday when you see feet standing in front of you and hear Dean say flatly he wishes to take you.

You look up at him surprised as Crowley laughs and Meg grimaces as she slinks away to Crowley’s chambers.  Dean does not say anything but takes a hold of your wrist and you are surprised at how gentle he is.

You follow him dumbly not really thinking at all and don’t realise you are in a room together till you hear the guard shut the door behind you.  You are still quite dumb when you watch as Dean strips his top off throwing it to the ground.  Your eyes are drawn to the bruises that speckle his chest and you find that you are warm as your eyes take in his body. 

You have been fucking men for over ten years but you have never felt any desire or enjoyment, preferring to switch off and go through the motions.  But you feel heat rise in your lower belly, your chest and your cheeks.  You feel desire and it feels foreign to you.

He looks at you and you swear that your heart skips a beat and you take a step forward and draw your fingertip along his jaw and let it drape down his chest.  His green eyes watch you carefully and you realise you still have not spoken to each other.

He then asks you why you are a whore, you feel the shame he brings about in you rear its ugly head and try and turn away but he grabs your wrist and demands an answer.  You look in to his eyes and hiss that you have no choice.  You tell him that like him you were ripped from your conquered land.  

That a scared girl of barely fifteen was expected to fuck all the men who demanded, that she was sold into this slavery and you know no other way to live.  That you have no choice just as he had no choice when he was captured, he has no choice in his life now.  Whether he lives or dies depends on fate and whether his opponent is better than him or not.

You are the same.  You tell him that he is also a whore, just while you fuck men, he offers himself up to the mob of Rome, and he fucks the empire.  And they love him for it.

His eyes are dark by the time you finish your torrent, you are not sure but you think it is not from lust and think that he is going to hit you and brace yourself ready.

You are proved wrong.

He grabs you and plunges his lips upon yours, forcing his hands through your long hair and you feel yourself gasp into the kiss throwing your arms around his broad tanned shoulders.  It is quick then the desire you feel.  It is new but in your heart you know it is real as you tear each other’s clothes off each other.

He is punishing you with kisses, bruising your lips, sucking on your neck and you gasp as fingers reach your clit.  You are so used to men taking, you never ever receive much attention from men and the way Dean kisses and touches you overwhelms you.  You moan recklessly and this time it’s not fake.

You are astounded that he is making you feel so many things, such heat, and such desire.  He is hovering over you and you meet his eyes and know that this desire that seems to be melting your bones is not just being felt by you.  He is even gently when he enters you, as if trying to keep himself in check.

Then he moves he fucks you so that it feels like you are catching fire, that any minute you will burst into flames.  You moan together, sucking on each other’s lips and shaking the bed against the wall, rattling as the room as it is filled with breathy moans and sighs.

You never thought it could be like this, you are a whore.  You know the tricks to making a man feel good but this is something new.  Normally any release for you (if any) is sometimes after being fucked into submission to the point that you cannot take any more.

Buy this, you have never felt so alive, your blood is burning and it is building like waves in a storm crashing against the rocks.  He pulls your legs and wraps them around your waist as he pounds into you.  It builds and builds and he kisses you like his lips were made purely for kissing you.

Then you both find you release and you find yourself screaming although it is muffled by his mouth.  You then gasp for air and stare at each other.  You are both trying to get your breath back and also trying to figure just what the hell that was.

You realise then three things.  You are both trembling, he is still holding on to you and his lips are mouthing your neck.  And more importantly he has you for the full night.

He takes you again, twice before dawn rises and it is just as good as the first time.  Each time you feel that burning that melts you completely and sends you soaring.  You still don’t talk much to each other; in fact you barely say anything at all.

He still doesn’t say anything to you as you shrug your clothes back on in the dawn light.  He just lies on his bed and watches you with languid eyes that watch you before drifting back off to sleep.  You smile softly and leave him to your slumber.

AS you walk back to your room, you bite your swollen lips and the beautiful ache that seems to be with you every step.  You won’t mind servicing Dean if he ever asks for you again, you think as you get into your bed.  Then you come back down to earth, you realise that last night might have been a wonderful revelation.  But now you have to go back to the world of fucking the likes of Uriel and Crowley.  And you are not sure whether you can.

In the end you do, because like you told Dean, your life is not your own.  You have no choice and it is better now because while you may have to sleep with Zachariah or Crowley, you now get to fuck Dean too when you are able to.

Dean never asks for Ruby or Meg, only you.  He fights better and he and his brother are becoming legends in the arena.  Crowley is happier; because the more fights they win the more money they make him.  You hate it when Dean is in the arena and that scares you as you wonder how this Celt from Britannia has got so far under your skin.

You talk more often now when you are with him, you share stories of your homelands and the families and lives that you have lost.  You also fuck passionately, in every way imaginable and not only that but Dean gives so much to you.  He really shouldn’t, you are a whore, and you are a slave.

A nothing who deserves nothing but some nights he kisses every part of you till you are a writhing mess and now it is not just some nights.  He finds you during the day when he is meant to be eating or resting and instead you laugh and fuck against a wall, hidden from view.

But there is a storm cloud brewing in Dean and that is when he sees you with others, you have experienced petty fights between the gladiators and which whore and when but you have never experienced jealousy and you are now feel sick when you have to fuck the other gladiators.

But Dean now visibly winces when he sees Gabriel trail his hand down your arm and pulls you to his bed.  There is a dark glint in Dean’s eyes when Uriel kisses your neck where the marks Dean gave you are as Uriel’s hand paws at your thigh moving further up.  You look to Dean who seems to biting so hard down on his jaw it could shatter.

He takes you so passionately after Uriel’s display, like he will fuck Uriel and everyone else away.  You cling on letting the fire of both your desires nearly set fire to it all.  You once questioned whether it was wise giving all to Dean but since he gave his all to you it would not be fair to not give him everything in return.

Things come to a head when you are walking across the courtyard watching Dean train with Sam, he catches your eye for a second a flash of a sly grin that makes your knees tremble when hands grab you from behind.  Zachariah slides his hands under your skirts and mouths at your neck, cupping your breast with his free hand.  You squeeze your eyes shut and try to black out the sensation but then the hands are gone and there is noise and commotion.  You open your eyes and see Dean has Zachariah pinned to the ground, a sword on his throat and a growl upon his lips.

It doesn’t take long for Crowley to come out and see what the fuss is and you panic, because this is all down to you.  Crowley laughs at Zachariah’s broken nose and then laughs even harder at Dean, calling him a fool and that no whore was ever worth this much trouble.  The look that Dean gives Crowley is murderous.

Crowley does not bite, he rolls his eyes and calmly informs Dean that you, he, Sam and Zachariah all belong to him.  And that Crowley can do as he pleases with all of you.  He looks from Dean to you and tells Dean that you are nothing more than a whore before he grabs your wrist and drags you inside.

You look to Dean’s panicked eyes as Crowley drags you, Dean struggling with the guards as he yells out to you, and that is when you realise that you love him. That you would do anything to protect him and right now you have to persuade Crowley that Dean is worth all the trouble he is causing.  That is possibly the greatest gladiator ever.   Because sometimes Crowley believes that if even if they are great, if they have a troublesome personality they are not worth it.  Because a troublesome personality can cause too much chaos and possibly even mutiny and that is dangerous to men like Crowley.

After Crowley fucks you and lets you go, you rush to find Dean and find him in his cell.  He is glowering and he looks to you at the doorway with such pained eyes that spear your heart.  He tells you it makes him sick when you are with other men.  He growls angrily and asks you whether you enjoy it?  Whether everything you have had together….he trails off and you heart beats wildly in your chest and you cross the room and knee before him. 

This is not fake.  This is real you tell yourself as you look up into his green eyes and tell him that you hate going with the others.  You tell him that you would have no other’s hands but his on your body.  That you hate fucking others now you have discovered something better with him.   Why have pewter when you could have silver? 

He watches you with a pained expression as you speak and you move towards him and press you lips upon his.  You breathe upon them and tell him you are afraid, that he has destroyed you. 

Because you cannot possibly be a whore when you are in love.

Dean looks at you then and you feel him sigh upon your lips.  A release and then he surges against you, kissing you again like you are made for his lips.  You realise as you strip each other’s clothes off and worship your bodies that this is not fucking.  You realise when he enters you gently, staring in to your eyes and brushing your hair from your face that it is not fucking.  He moves gently, ever so slightly moving with more and more pace so that tight ball of heat grows bigger and hotter.

You are not fucking.  You are making love.  With this realisation you are lost and you make love for the rest of the night.  Your voice is nearly hoarse from the moans and cries but Dean turns to you and gently kisses you.  You don’t expect him to tell you that he loves you.  You don’t need him to, he has told you in the way he kisses you, the way he moves inside you.  He has shown you that he loves you. 

You don’t talk about the others or what you are going to do because there is now no way you can fuck anyone else.  Dean presses a kiss to your shoulder and tells you not to worry; he will look after you then gets up to get ready to go the arena.  You ask how and he smiles at you and says he will speak to Crowley.  He will do anything, he is a good fighter and has made Crowley a lot of money, and he deserves his own personal whore.

You laugh at that.

That afternoon he kisses you right until the point he has to leave and you watch him leave, you never like watching him leave.  You fret but then you think back to the previous night when he worshipped your body.  You smile and close your eyes in sensuality; this is possibly the first time you have smiled in true happiness since your childhood.

That happiness is ripped away when Sam returns that evening from the arena.

But Dean does not.        


	4. Part Three- The Holy Land- 1191

You are devout.  You love God above all things and in his name you have sworn yourself to great cause of regaining Jerusalem.  You have sworn yourself to the Knight’s Hospitaller to fight the infidel and regain the holy city of Jerusalem, and the holy land.  To save it from evil.

You are travelling over the sea from Messina, leaving your French town far behind you.  You are young and burning from zeal that the Pope and church has instilled in you.  That makes you righteous in the lives you are going to take.  The holy war.

But you soon learn that holy war is not what you expected, when you cross the sea, the heat hits you and you realise that this is truly a holy war as you think you have stepped into hell.  The sweat rolls down your back and the armour and chainmail that you wear feels so heavy and hot.  You wonder about the zeal that you left Italy with whether it is still there.

Right now you wish you were in shelter and not out in the open, in this heat.  You wish for a bed, a cold bath and some cold clean water down your throat.  But instead your troop plods wearily on, in a desert of fire, your commanders looking tired and everyone looks exhausted.

That’s perhaps why you all don’t see them attacking before it’s too late.  Suddenly it is all noise, gone is the silence of hot horses and grumbling men.  It is a quick snap and it is all clanging of metal, screams of horses and the yells of men.   The Saracens have slammed right into your flank, slashing and cutting through it like a hot knife through butter.

You parry attacks, cutting and slashing, killing men and you feel no righteousness or holy fervour.  All you feel is sick and fearful, panicking as another attacker comes to you and your horse panics and rears up.  The heavy weight of your armour drags you down and everything black as you hit the ground.

At first you think you are dead and panic because it is so hot you fear you have gone to hell.  But then you taste blood on your lips and you hand travels to the crusted blood on your temple as you hazard opening your eyes.  The light makes the pain in your skull even worse and you let out a little moan.  You see bodies all around you, you have escaped certain death as your horse is dead but inches away from you and has narrowly missed crushing you.

Then there are feet in front of your eyes and hands grip your shoulders and yank you up.  You blink disoriented as a foreign tongue yells in your ear.  Finally your eyes refocus and you stare into the eyes of a very angry Saracen.  He shouts at your rapidly and you blink dumbly and realise that this is it.  You are going to die.  You wonder why he still has not killed you and look around and see that you are only one left; your entire troop is dead.  Death will be welcome to you now.

The infidel is shouting and raises his sword and you prepare yourself, trying to say a quick prayer and think of the family you left behind when another voice shouts across and the infidel stops.  You looked dazed up to another Saracen upon a horse and you take a breath because you have never seen anything so beautiful before.  

The priests told you that the infidels were messengers from Satan, riding on black horses from hell, full of hate, blood thirst and cruel.  But you see that there are also Saracen dead amongst your own.  This has been a typical battle of these crusades, just that you were on the losing side.   You look back to the Saracen on the white horse who is dismounting.  He wears beautiful blue silks and gloriously detailed armour.  He is beautiful you see as he walks towards you, long dark hair that is swept back with oils and sweat.  A beard that speckles his chin and his skin is a glorious tanned brown. 

But his eyes, beautiful green eyes that watch you coolly as he marches over to you.  The Saracen that was holding you releases you and you sag slightly, your knees unable to take your full tired weight before you look up fearfully.  Surely this is when you die, but then this beautiful Adonis surprises you by speaking to you in French.

You blink, how are these Saracens savages when they speak your tongue?  The green eyed Saracen asks you to surrender; telling you that there would be no honour in killing a half dead Christian.  You nod because you don’t think you could talk if you tried. 

Then the depressing thought hits you, you have not even reached Jerusalem and you are a prisoner.

You travel through the cooler dusk then make camp at night; you are chained the whole time and are chained to a palm tree in a small oasis where you have made camp.  You listen to the voices around the campfires and though you cannot understand what they are saying but the conversations cannot be that different to those you had with your fellow comrades. 

 Comrades who are now dead.  Would they be in heaven?  Would they be in everlasting peace and grace?  For killing infidels?  Infidels that had spared his life.  You look from your chained hands down to your feet when you notice the green eyed Saracen standing in front of you.  He brings you water and places it in your hands himself.  The water feels glorious on your throat as you drink and you start when you feel a damp cloth upon your brow, wiping away the crusted blood and dust off your face.

You ask him why he is doing this. Helping you, surely it would be better for him to kill you.

He smiles softly and plays with the cloth in his hands, he replies calmly that it would not have been honourable to kill a man who could not defend himself, especially a man who had survived such a vicious battle. That his God- Allah- would not have been pleased with him.

You bite back the well-rehearsed Christian rhetoric that their God is not God, when he asks would you have not done the same.  It stuns you as you realise that you would probably not have.  Had your troop had captured this righteous man standing in front of you; they would have killed him upon your supposed God’s saying.

It’s as if the Saracen can read your thoughts and he asks whether it is true or not that you God said Thou shall not kill.

That stuns you and you are entranced by the smile that fills the Saracen’s face when he bids you a goodnight.  It is a smile that you will cherish in your memories forever.

You travel for days and each night he comes to you with water and a damp cloth, sometimes some food.  You talk about certain things about each other, your Gods, your preachers.  You never ask what will happen to you because you know when you reach your destination you are probably a dead man.  They will question you and find that you have no information and kill you.   But for now you cling on to the evenings when you get to talk to him.

Sometimes he does not talk to you, instead hands you the water and cloth and sits beside, not saying anything.  Just be being there you realise you don’t feel so alone and lost.

The church preaches against so many things you wonder if God and Jesus would agree with them. Then you remember you have sworn before God to do your duty as a Knight.  The next morning the Saracen wakes you and you are thrown because you never see him in the morning.  He gives you water and unbound your chains from around your wrist and beckons for you to follow him.

You do, puzzled until you see he is leading you to a horse and part of your gut plummets but you are not sure from fear or hope.  The Saracen turns to you with sad eyes and tells you to take the horse, one of his scouts has come back and there are knights Templar a day’s ride away.

The Saracen is giving you your freedom.  You realise that there will be no more nights of water and talking to him.  You did not realise it, but you have become friends.  But as soon as you take the reins of the horse you are back to being enemies.  You realise the man before you is no infidel.  He is an honourable, righteous man.

And your friend.

You hold out your hand and he grasps it firmly, pulling you slightly into a light embrace.  You try not to look into those sad green eyes when you mount the horse he has given you and turn it into the direction the knights Templar are.

You chance one more look and he is still watching you as you ride away.  You may never see him again or even worse you may oppose him someday on the battlefield.

When you re-join your forces and recover your strength you march on Acre and you realise that every night you dream of green eyes and the briefest of touches of a man who offers you water and washes the hot day from your face.

You realise then what is truly holy.

 


	5. Part Four- France-1350

You are simple honest working man; you own a farm and tend to your land as best as you can.  But times are hard. The winter has left many hungry mouths and not enough food to eat.  The authorities make it worse by taxing the poor till they have nothing left.

You lost your wife last winter when cold got on your chest and would not leave.  You are still grieving from your Sam’s death but you keep going because you have your green eyed daughter to look after.  She is your world, she misses her mother but she rarely shows it.  She tries to hide that she cries at night and when you hear her cry you go to her and hold her trembling form.

You promised your dead wife that you will look after her at all costs.  You give her the best cuts of the meat when you can get it.  You can give her the lion’s share of the food because you want her to be strong.  Your green eyed girl is all you have left of your family.

She is happier in the spring and you watch her sew just as her mother did, sitting in front of the cottage in the sunshine.  You are planting seeds and you wave to her when a man travelling through the village stops and tells you of the news.  The dark storm cloud that is sweeping through Europe, he tells you of a sickness that is going through the towns and cities, through countries.

That it cannot be stopped that takes people in its grip, the old, the young and all in between.  Not only the poor but also the rich, those in the church, even royalty are none are safe from this illness.  You try to ignore the fear that hits your gut but it is not for yourself, but also you look to the young girl that sews by the front door of the cottage.

You ask the stranger if he knows the symptoms but he shakes his head, his description relies on one word.  Black.

You put what the stranger said behind you and get on with your life, hoping that your crops will grow and not fail.  You feed Dean well and still hug her when she cries.  You try and ignore the reports of this sickness that seems to get closer and closer. 

It reaches your local town and you start to hear more of this black illness.  It is quick and lethal, there is nobody that survives.  It starts with swellings around the groin and under the arms.  They would get a fever and fluid gets on their lungs, vomiting blood.  It would take sometimes days before the victim would die. 

People are fearful and neighbours look upon each other wondering if they become ill.  You fear for your girl and keep her indoors.  You won’t let her play with other children; you keep her close which grates on her.  She tries to argue but a firm glare from your eyes from your blue eyes puts her in her place.

You want to keep her safe at all costs and hate that you are confining her so as it won’t be good  for her.  But then you panic when she gets rosy cheeks or cough, you feel her forehead uttering a small prayer to keep her safe from all threats.

You never realise that the threat could come from you.

You don’t think much of the ache if your neck in the summer sunshine, you rub your neck absently as you look to your daughter waving from the window.  You think the sweat of your brown is from the heat of the day.

In the evening you discover the first lump and you feel your blood run cold, icy cold.   It feels the size of a pea at your groin but you know that the illness that has spread through the country has reached your home.

You next thought after the initial panic is your daughter, you have not heard of people surviving this illness.  You hear your girl crying in her bed and as much as you want to go to her but now knowing you have this black illness you cannot go to her.

You have to think about what you can do to keep her safe that is your main thought.  You only hope for two things, enough time to get her safe and pray to God Dean does not become ill.  You send a message to the local monastery and pack her belongings into a small bag, while ignoring the cough that rattles your chest and the sweat that clings to your brow.

The last night that you know you will spend with your daughter you watch her sleep.  You fear what will happen to her once you are gone but know that is now out of your control.  But you want to give her best shot. 

You hate what fate has thrown at your child, you rail at God in your prayers, and you curse all the angels and saints that would have your daughter an orphan.  That you are scared for her but know that you love her too much to sacrifice her life keeping her with you.

So you watch her sleep with tears rolling down your cheeks which you do not wipe away.  In the morning you will send her away, she will scream and yell at you.  She will scream why and ask you what she has done to upset you.  She begs to be kept by your side, screaming that she needs you.

You watch your beloved girl till she is a speck on the horizon, still screaming and wailing tears roll down your face and your heart aches.  A hacking cough rattles your chest and you can taste blood on your lips. The lumps on your neck and groin are sore and you know by tomorrow they will have become black, you know when you go to bed tonight you won’t be getting back out of it.

You look to the empty horizon and swear you can still hear the cries that stab your heart.  You turn back into your cottage, to prepare for you death.  Sacrificing any comfort you could have had on your deathbed, you will have no company or loved ones but that is the sacrifice you want so your daughter can live.

Because you love her, and you die with that love seared on your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The illness that swept Europe in the 1350's was the Black Death.
> 
> For more information- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Death


	6. Part Five- England- 1536

You are a prisoner.  By the order of the King and you are called a traitor though you know you are innocent.  The only sin you know have committed is that of love.  You are innocent of the charges against you.  You know that you entered the Tower, the great Tower of London and you will never leave here alive. 

Your heart aches, because you don’t know where Dean is and wonder what he is going through you do not know if he too is a prisoner.  You hope not, you hope only one of you has been accused with the Queen.  You would die a thousand deaths if it meant that Dean was safe, but you know deep down in your gut that he too will be prisoner.  He is the Queen’s brother and he will not escape the king’s fury.

All the circle of the Queen will be taken; you look back and think you were all too reckless.  You realise that you thought yourselves invincible, because you were close to the Queen.  The woman Henry VIII had chased for years, this clever woman who had toppled cardinals and Spanish Queens. Being her ally and friend was an honour and very rewarding.

You remember those days before the coronation, those glorious heady days where everything was for the taking.  Calais and even before that.    Growing up in the King’s court, the greatest court in Christendom, you were a groom of the bedchamber, alongside Dean.  He made you laugh, made you smile.  If any of the other courtiers tried to tease you of your gentle nature he would come raring to your defence.

You were friends, best friends and spent time together; it was inevitable that you would fall in love.  You loved his smile, his green eyes that flared with ambition that came with being a Boleyn.   It was when his sister arrived from France that things began to subtly change.  It came with the change of the court when the pompous Cardinal Wolsey fell and Katherine of Aragon banished.

The court became fun but more reckless place, the king was in love and wanted to make his mistress Queen, a commoner elevated to the throne of England.  It had inspired all ambitious people everywhere.

Calais, you smile at the memory.  Calais when the whole court decamped to France was when Dean first kissed you.  In a darkened corner of a back room, terrified in case anyone saw you but he kissed you tentatively as if you both discover something new born and want to treat it gently. 

For if anyone discovered you, it would mean your death.   But the whole visit of the court of France was a party; everyone was sneaking around and ending up in the wrong beds.  By the end of the visit that meant Dean and the King of England himself. 

Everything changed again when you arrived back in England; Dean was elevated so high, his sister was now Queen of England and carrying the King’s son.   You should have paid more attention to Dean’s vicious wife who had been married to him as a child but you paid her no heed.  Dean did not love her, he loved you.

He may have been the King’s brother in law but he loved you and refused to give up when you suggested you should separate because Dean was in the glare of the beady eyes of the court.  He told you he would rather jump in the Thames than give you up and kissed you to stop the argument.

You were taught from a young age that Sodomy was a sin but in your heart you know that this love could not be a sin, it could not anger God.  It was pure, it was beautiful and if God did not recognise that.  You refuse to recognise God so be damned to Hell for blasphemy.

That year when the Queen was expecting her child and the King devoted, everything was filled with such joy and hope.  You spent hours hidden away, making love kissing Dean while talking of his nephew in his sister’s belly, the future King of England.

It wasn’t always so easy; the court is a difficult place to live.  It is political, you can have enemies everywhere and still have to face them and give them a gracious smile and pretend they are your friend.  You are on the winning side though, you are with the Queen.  In her circle, following her and praising her beauty and you follow her because you love her and her brother.

But you also love her; you love her quick wit, her intelligence.  She is unlike any other woman.  You gamble, you play music and you enjoy all the courts vices.  You dance with women praising their pretty eyes while Dean watches jealously from the side.   You cannot show him any attention so you continue dancing ignoring his warm gaze.

It is only afterwards, tucked up high in the attics of the palace that he shows you how mad you dancing with another drives him.    Forceful kisses upon your mouth that drive you insane while he enters you fast covering your mouth with his own so your gasps and moans cannot be heard.

You cannot get enough of each other and even if you are caught he is the Queen’s brother, he will find a way out for you both.  You truly believe that.  But living this recklessly, living on this knifes edge means that you can easily slip and end up with the knife in your back. 

You wish you had savoured those days in Calais, because it all fell apart so quickly after the Queen gave birth to a daughter and not the promised son. The king at first did not show his disappointment, the next child would be a boy.  The court was still hopeful to match the king’s optimism.   But now it had a more cautious glare and that glare was turned towards the Queen and her circle.

Then it all unravelled so quickly.

Nobody in the circle had prepared or even entertained the idea that the Queen to keep miscarrying, for her to rail angrily in jealous fits against King for his mistresses.  He roared at her reminding her that better women had turned a blind eye, comparing her to Katherine.  The passion of the new Queen which had fascinated the King now irritated him; the royal marriage was falling apart.

Nobody knew what would happen and the court held its breath in those hot early days of May.  You just never imagined it could end up like this.  Five men accused of adultery with the Queen, her brother included.  You could laugh at the irony; you could say neither you nor Dean were her lover since you were sleeping with each other.  But that would condemn you too.

It was just a normal morning; you were walking to the tennis courts, Dean throwing his arm around your shoulder when the guards arrived to take you away.  Dean looked so scared but so resigned, while you panicked for him.   You felt such fear as words floated in the air but did not register adultery, incest, treason and arrest.  The Tower.

You are in your cell and can hear the shouts from the hall where Dean and his sister are on trial for treason.  You have already been tried and have been found guilty.  You know you are going to die a traitor’s death.  Hung drawn and quartered but you hope the King will be merciful and can commute it to beheading.

You bribe a guard to bring you news of the trial and you are not surprised at all when he comes to you with news of the verdict.  Guilty.  The King is mad, because he is willing to sign the death warrants of his wife and mother of his child and the warrants of five men who he has known since childhood.  The King has gone mad with power.

There is movement and the door to your cell opens, you are surprised to see him standing there.  The air leaves your lungs as Dean explains he has bribed his guard to have one hour with you.  Only when the door closes and you both alone do you touch each other.  There is no lust, only love you do not have much time.  You spend it kissing lazily and talking of times past.  You talk of the times you have loved each other.   You talk of Calais; you talk of even earlier when you were cheeky pages together.

You do not talk of what will happen, only what has happened.  You tell him that you love him and question whether he regrets any of it.  He angrily shushes you and tells you that he does not regret it; he only regrets that he did not have the sense to escape to the country with you.  You smile at that image of you both living in a country house, lying in a great bed till late in the morning.  You would pay the servants well so they would not talk.

You find you like that image even though it would have never happened because you cannot imagine Dean being anywhere else but at court.  Being ambitious with his sister who would be Queen.

Soon enough the hour is over and when he is taken from you, you have tears rolling down your cheeks.  You don’t care that you are going to die, what hurts more is that Dean is going to die also. 

You do not sleep; there is no point in sleeping when you are going to your eternal rest in the morning.  You try to pray but all you thoughts are on Dean and your memories together.  You remember him as a child; you remember when his sister came back from France.  The endless chase that started between her and the King and the endless rewards that came to being part of the new circle.

You remember the sheer tension the court created, that feeling when you know you are attracted to someone but you dare not let it out.  And that moment in Calais when the tension finally snapped between you and Dean.  You were both a bit drunk and he brushed your lips with his own.  The beer in your blood made you bold and your blood burn as you had shed your clothes quickly.

You had never known anything like it when he entered you, your name on his lips pressed against sweaty skin.  You have been blessed in this life to have known love.  It is that what gives you comfort during the long night.

But morning comes too quickly and interrupts your memories, you are to die and the King has granted mercy.  You are to be beheaded; the queen too is to be beheaded with a sword.  Her five supposed lovers are to be slain with an axe.  Lovers you scorn, all innocent.  The only thing that the Queen was guilty was not having a son and marrying a monster.

They send a priest to hear your last confession, though you do not confess Dean, to you he could never be a sin.  You dress in the same court clothes that you were wearing when you were arrested.  Blue eyes ringed with shadows are reflected in the pail of water that has been provided for you to wash yourself.  Then the guards arrive and your hour of death approaches.

They escort you to a court where three men await when you are heard on when you see Dean follow you on to the court.   Your heart stops, you are scared but you know that you can do this with him nearby.  He sits beside you and has no shame in taking your hand.  You have nothing left to loose and you give him a watery smile.  The other men who had probably long suspected of your relationship look away out of respect.

The journey to Tower Hill is a short one but you never let go of his hand.  You can feel his heart rapidly beat under his palm and you ignore the jeers of the crowds that surround the scaffold.  The people yell at you, call you a traitor and your gaze falters over them and the scaffold.  Fear pierces your heart and your falter but you feel Dean squeeze your hand and the moment of fear is over. 

The guard tells Dean to get out, he is first to be behead since he is the most titled.  You learn you are to be third, Dean looks to you one last time a smile upon your lips before climbing the scaffold.  You cannot comprehend his speech of the crowd.  All you know is that Dean is going to die and you are going to watch him die.  The axed shall strike the neck that you kissed and sucked marks on to. 

You watch numbly as Dean kneels and places his head upon the block.  It almost feels like a dream, then in a flash the axe falls and he is gone.  You do not realise you are crying till you cover you face with your hands and they come away wet.  You cannot imagine a world without Dean and try not to let the bile rise in your gut as they take his head and body away. 

You watch as they behead Henry Norris then come for you and lead you up the scaffold as if you were but a child and cannot cope with what has happened, with what is happening.   You think of Dean and what he said about a country house and you smile thinking of that life.  If there is a heaven you hope it will be like that and that Dean is waiting for you.

You kneel and place your hands in Dean’s blood, you have nothing left to loose, and your life is like your heart and souls.  They all belong to Dean.   Not even a King could take that away.  You feel a certain peace wash over you as you place you head upon the block.

Images of lying in bed with Dean fill you mind, you are going to him you are sure of it.  You are going home.  No more courts of Kings and Queens, you are going to Dean.  You raise your arms outwards to give the signal to the executioner and it is almost like flying, you hope you are going home.

As the axe falls you soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this based on the fall of Queen Anne Boleyn with a distinct idea that Dean was Anne's brother George Boleyn while Cas is Sir Francis Weston, a man executed in the fall of Anne who was rumoured to be in a relationship with George.
> 
> For more information- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Boleyn#Downfall_and_execution:_1536


	7. Part Six- The New World- 1650

You stand as the faint pinprick of your homeland disappears into the distance.  Your homeland, it cannot be called that anymore.  Ten years of civil war to rid a tyrant king and the end result is a tyrant protector who is king in all but name.

You feel that the beliefs that you fought for have been betrayed.  So now you watch England disappear, you are going to the New World.  Where anything is possible, an old family friend has offered you a life there and you seize you chance.

The voyage will be long and you have heard many a tale of the illness and savages that await you in the colonies.  But you truly believe that you can be happy there, that you can be free there.  The ship is full of like mind people, not only from England but from France and the Lowlands.   Those who fear persecution and injustice who wish to make a new life in the New World.  Virginia.  Right now it feels so far away but it is a beacon to all on board.

It is on this day when the Cornish coast fades into memory that you notice the figure beside that is also watching the coastline.  It is one of the passengers that got on at Plymouth, the last port with his younger brother.  You wish you had someone travelling with you but you are alone, you are going to meet with your father’s old friend who has offered you work and also his daughter who you have promised to take as a wife when you arrive.

The man beside you is beautiful; he has gorgeous long blonde hair and green eyes that blink from the coast to you.  For a brief second you are amazing and all you can hear is the sound of the sea below you.  You have heard of people meeting their perfect mates but have often scoffed at them preferring to be more cynical of the world. 

It is that cynicism that berates you, you should not feel this way you are going to the New World to meet you betrothed.  He smiles and you talk of the anxiety of leaving all you have ever known.  He and his brother fought in the many wars of Europe as mercenaries and made their fortune to go to the New World.  It is another similar tale of many people who have been torn apart from these wars.   You tell him you lost your three brothers during the English wars.

You should ignore the heat in your stomach and try to hide it in your gaze.  You have always been tempted by what the church calls unnatural and a sin.  You keep this part of you so secret; you have been present at the executions of so called sodomists.  But in your eyes they have only been guilty of falling in love.

Your father knew of your secret and called it a flaw; he tried to beat it out of you before you died.  It is why at nearly thirty you are still unmarried and wonder if you will feel attracted to the future wife that awaits you.

But you look at Dean and his green eyes and try to ignore the flare of heat in your gut.  You both talk over the next few weeks of the voyage, playing cards and discussing your plans for when you reach the colonies.  Dean and his brother wish to farm and hope to buy a bit of land, own some animals and live in peace.  You hope that once you have served your future father in law that you may be granted the same.

You become his friend; you like his loyalty and his sense of humour that has you rolling around the deck laughing.  But you cannot help but steal glances at him, the freckles on his nose and above his lips.  The strong muscles of his shoulders and his neck that become tanned in the sun and salt air and you hope that he does not notice you stealing these glances or anyone else for that matter.

You chastise yourself, you should not be thinking this way about him when Dean has shown you nothing but kindness.  You shouldn’t but even the simplest touch from him, a hand upon your back, a brush of knuckles, you cherish to your heart.   Sometimes the lust in your blood rears its ugly head and in your cabin or a quiet part of the ship you touch yourself.  Always with him in your thoughts and his name upon you lips when you come to your release.

You feel ashamed that you give into it and also that you betray your friend by fantasising about him like this.  After one potent time you avoid him which is difficult on board a ship but you lock yourself in your cabin, ignoring knocks from Dean and his brother.

It is hot; the sun high in the sky so everyone is in the cabins so you hope that you can use that as your excuse.  But in the slightly cooler evenings you hear people make their way up on deck to enjoy the sunset.  It is then when you hear a firm knock at your door.  You know it is Dean and you are going to shout an excuse when he opens the door and stomps in closing the door behind him before you can even say a word.

Your cabin is small, room enough for you to stand and a truckle bed, so you are standing close to each other.  Dean demands a reason to why you have been avoiding him.  Are you ill?  Has he offended you?  Has he done something to make you hate him?

You stand there astounded at his quick questions, you never wanted this.  You shake your head and tell him he has done nothing wrong trying to avoid looking at him because you are so close to him.  But this does not please him, his green eyes are distraught.  HE tells you that he does not understand the change in your behaviour.  He is hurt by your coldness and he must have done something to affect you so.

You feel dreadful, he seems so helpless but it quickly turns to anger when you won’t look at him.  He demands you look at him and tell him the truth.  You sigh softly and look up to his green and eyes and you feel awful and cannot bear that you are responsible.

The heat in your cabin has become unbearable, the sweat making your shirts cling to your bodies and you swear you can smell his musky scent.  HE is waiting for you to speak and you do, remarkably calm despite your rapid heartbeat that you by being distant you were protecting him.  Protecting him from your desire for him.

You close your eyes and await the storm, the disgust and the hue and cry that would lead to your downfall.  But instead when you open your eyes he is standing closer to you (you thought that would be impossible in your cabin).  There is no disgust in his eyes or anger, only wonder and something else. 

You lick the sweat from your top lip and watch his eyes follow the movement and you now recognise that something else in his eyes.  He grits his teeth and tells you that you have no right to decide whether your desire is harmful to him.  That is his decision and his alone.

His vehemence surprises you and you are stunned, you tell him he does not realise what that makes you.  That you are nature, that he drives you mad and you cannot cope with being so close to him.  By keeping your distance you are doing the best thing.

He cuts you off by grabbing fistfuls of your damp shirt and plunging his lips on yours.  You are stunned momentarily before attacking him back passionately grabbing his head and trailing your hands through his long hair. 

The moans that erupt from your chest are mimicked by him; he sucks on your bottom lip before growling upon it that he doesn’t care about the whole world right now just as long as you get it in to your thick skull not to make decisions about you and him, without him.  That he wants you, has wanted you for months that he steals glances and touches when he can.  That you have driven him crazy and if you don’t fuck him soon he is going to jump overboard.

The damp clothes are quickly torn from each other’s bodies, you are filled with the sensuality of his touch as his mouth travels down your jaw, leaving kisses and licking the sweat that trails down your neck.  Your hands finally get to dig into those shoulders that you have fantasised over as you slide them down his slick back, slipping past his waistband and impatiently tugging down his trousers.

The heat in your whole body threatens to tear your apart but you don’t care as long as Dean kisses you, touches you.  You collapse onto the truckle bed and into a fit of giggles at what you are trying to achieve in such a small space.  But it feels right.  You may have only done this a couple of times and even after the beatings of your father you could never deny that this was not right.

You lie on top of him and worship him with your lips, teasing nipples with your teeth.  Lapping at his salty sweat moving down his body and revelling in his throaty gasps and moans that shake his body.  You take his cock in your mouth and you worship, sucking and licking him, massaging his balls while watching him grip the dirty sheets of your bed, his face in rapture.  You swallow him deep and let him thrust gently holding his hips firmly with a delight smirk realising his body is covered in your marks.

Possession flares in your gut as you feel him getting close to his release, you let go of his cock and slide up his body, ignoring his petulant moan as you rock your hips into his.  He bucks instinctively and you gasp as his cock slick with sweat, saliva and pre come touches your own.  

You have to have him, you think as you stare into those beautiful green eyes which are almost black with lust.  You kiss him and rock into his hips gently and you feel him seize against you and groan against your lips.  He paints your stomachs sticky and you grin moving your way back down his body trailing your fingers through his come.

He watches you with lazy eyes but he bites his lip and you can see his breathy pants and feel his heart race.  You keep trailing your fingers down his body and around his legs to caress his cheeks.  You are not sure for a moment that he will let you do this.  For this is the act that, that if caught, could condemn you to death.  You look to him for permission and he looks at you with such gentleness it takes your breath away.  He nods gently and helpfully spreads his legs.

You have been overwhelmed by his touch, by his kisses by the way he looks and holds you.  But nothing can prepare you for the way he feels.  You are gentle as you prepare him with fingers and his come.  But even more so when you enter him, you know it will be painful and the brief grimace in Dean’s eyes is just that, a brief grimace.  Soon his face changes into wonder as you gently start to move and he greedily claims your lips.

He starts to move back onto your thrusts and you try and keep your moans and gasps to a minimum in case anyone should hear them.  You gasp as he scratches his nails down your back as you build up your pace.  It builds the heat in your body and you breathe out raggedly into each other’s mouths, gasping each other’s names.

It has never felt like this before, you think as you feel your body take over and you stare into those green eyes, loosing yourself in those green eyes.  You feel it building in your lower body as you move faster and faster.  You are hurtling towards the edge of something, like waves thrashing in the seas.  You try not to cry out but every time you bury yourself deep in him on releases itself from your lips.

Finally it hits you, a white heat as you find your release and you bite into his shoulder.  Trembling you collapse onto him and he wraps his arms around you nuzzling your neck and peppering your jaw with kisses.  You brush his hair, wet with sweat from his face and brush your hands down his cheeks.

This is nothing you have ever experienced before, you both know it.  How can it be wrong?  How can it be a sin when you feel such joy, peace and love?  Love. He kisses you gently and you know you have found something, something pure.

In the days afterwards you find it difficult going back to how it was before.  But it isn’t like before; you can’t touch each other during the day.  You only chance the briefest of touches when nobody can see.

But sometimes you feel reckless when he looks at you and you lose yourself in his gaze, he bits a smirk at you and you turn away blushing.  You look forward to the dusky evenings or nights when you retreat back to your cabin or you find darkened corners of the ship.   You kiss and make love, enjoying each other’s bodies.

You are in love.  Every part of every day you think of him, look forward to seeing him and look forward to making love to him.  But there is a storm brewing.  The ship sails closer and close to the New World and you do not know what will happen so both of you live for the moment.

He wants you to go with him and his brother when you dock in Jamestown.  But you have no money, how would you survive?  You won’t be a burden to them when they are starting out.  He argues that he does not care but you do.   If you abandon the daughter of the man who has promised you a life for Dean there would be an outcry and suspicions would arise.

No matter how much you want to run away with him and you dream constantly of that life, you know you can’t.

But you are not sure you can give each other up, his body is too addictive, the feel of his lips upon your skin, you name upon his lips.  You love him.

The captain notifies everyone on board that the ship is a few days away from land.  You lie in your tiny truck bed together, clinging to each other.  He tells you that he loves you and the fact he breaths it into your skin makes you gasp.

The confessions flow freely then, he can’t cope with knowing you are going to be married as he sucks into your skin.  He says that he loves you and that he wants to be with you, breathing a kiss on your chest. 

But you both know deep down, you realise that it will never be.  You both couldn’t wait to leave England but now you don’t want to reach Virginia.  You wish you could just stay adrift at sea in an endless voyage, constantly together.

But it will happen, you will reach land.  Each night it grows closer, you make love and cling to each until Dean has to leave.  You are frightened each time he leaves that this will be your last night together.  Finally land is sighted and you feel yourself stumble as everyone cheers, you look across and meet the eyes of a pale Dean.  You have one more night.

In the evening you argue tears in your eyes, he tells you that you have to be together, whatever the cost.  Is it worth your life?  Yes, but his?  No you cannot and will not risk his life and you tell him this angrily.

He sighs and tells you this should be how you spend your last night.  He kisses you gently but passionately growling that if this is to be your last night then he doesn’t want to spend it fighting.  You let him drag you to the bed kissing your flushed cheeks.  He tells you that he loves you that he always will.  You bite back a sob and you let him move against you.  You plead against his lips that he makes love to you.

He looks at you concerned, he has never entered you but the look in your desperate eyes makes him nod.  He kisses you gently and trails his lips down your body.  If you thought you could never feel more connected to Dean than when you are in him, you are proven wrong.

You cannot comprehend it; it overwhelms you, your body shatters just to match your broken heart.  Afterwards you hold each other trembling, clinging to each other.  He whispers to you that if you ever get sick of your wife to come and find him.   You feel sick at the word wife and tell him that he will probably have wife by that time.  He looks at you with sad eyes and you know he will never marry.

It is dawn when the ship docks in Jamestown and Dean rises to leave your cabin.  You bite back the tears that want to fall, your future father in law said he would meet when you arrived and you cannot go to him with red rimmed eyes.

You pack your little bag with a heavy heart, ignoring the pain in your bottom, wincing gently at both that pain and the memory of last night.  The captain yells that people are free to disembark and you want to stay on the boat, pretend this is not happening.

There is a knock at the door and you know it will be Dean.  This is it, this is goodbye.  You cling to each other kissing each other passionately.  He tells you that you will never age to him, you will be timeless. 

You embrace one last time with one last I love you, before he tells you to close your eyes.  You obey and the feel his presence leaves you and the cabin goes quiet.  When you open your eyes he is gone.


	8. Part Seven- Kansas- 1860

You are his and he is yours, he has known you since childhood and now he has married you.  Wife the name feels foreign on your tongue and now you cannot keep from saying I am his wife, he is my husband.

You waited three years to marry, three years that he satisfied your father by saving enough to buy a plot of land to farm and built you a home.  He says he will be happy farming the land, growing things as long as he is doing it together with you.  It is a hard life but you are happy together, you miss him while he works on the land but every time he returns to the home he kisses you deeply.  He never shies from telling you that he loves you.

You know you are a woman blessed indeed; you have a home and a man who lets you be how you are, a man who isn’t afraid to love you and make it known.  He holds you hand whenever you go into town and glares at any man who tittles at him.

He is a handsome man, rugged in his looks dark blonde hair that curls at his neck, with a wispy beard and beautiful green eyes.  Green eyes that follow you whenever you are near and you know that you are besotted with him.  People smile and say that you are in the glows of being newlyweds but you hope that this feeling will carry on till you are in your old age.

Because he is so handsome he could have had any woman of the county, but he wanted you.  The shy girl with red hair, pale lips and deep blue eyes.  A rough country boy who wanted the pastor’s daughter, who hung around the church all the time just for a chance to see you.  Your father was concerned at first but could not deny you when you flew into tears at the mere mention of not being with him.

Dean proved himself by staying true to you for three years and your father is now satisfied, you attend church every Sunday and all the congregation can see the love between you both.  You may be young but you take everything in your stride.  If you ever do argue, it never lasts long and you often end up in bed making up.

It shouldn’t surprise you six months in to your marriage when you wake up one morning and run to the pail to be sick.  Dean is by your side immediately, wiping your sweaty face with a damp cloth.  He gently embraces you soothing you but he has a hopeful smile upon his face.  You are more cautious and tell him it could be stomach illness, he agrees telling you to give a few more days.

A week later and you are still being sick in the mornings, your breasts ache and your belly is slightly more rounded.  You place a hand upon your belly and offer a prayer of thanks for this new gift and another title to match wife, mother.  Dean is overjoyed, excitably whooping when you confirm what both of you have tiptoed around for weeks.  He is even more attentive and loving, coming home in the middle of his working day to make sure that you are well.  You have to chase him away back to the fields when he gets under your feet for too long.

You lie in bed together at night, he tucked in behind you and both your arms encircle and protect your swollen belly.  You discuss names and Dean tells you that he does not mind a daughter or a son just as long as you are both healthy. 

You hate how he blames himself that he is not there when your pains start one hot summer’s morning, you battle the first few hours by yourself.  When he finds you screaming and splayed out on your bedroom floor, it is high afternoon.  You are soaked in sweat and have vomited twice, he stares at you pale and blinking until you yell at him for to get help.

He gets quick help quickly tearing away and returning swiftly with a woman from the next farm who takes charge immediately, shooing him from the room despite his desperate please to stay with you.

The pain is the worst you have ever felt and it goes on for hours, you try and hold down your screams and never know that Dean is outside on his knees praying, tears rolling down his face as he begs God to help you.  It is a natural fear for a soon to be father that he will lose you both in this trial as often is the sad case.

As the night comes the pains become quicker and you enter a dreamy state, the woman from the farm tells you your body is ready to do its part.  You want to push and the woman tells you to so you obey.  You push and scream for half an hour before you feel a slither between your legs.  A scream fills the room and you burst into tears of relief.  You are informed that you have a son and as he is placed in your arms you melt.

He is screaming, eyes scrunched up in indignant anger and announcing his arrival but he is all Dean, his hair is a light blonde, his jaw and nose your brush with a fingertip, he is the image of Dean and you imagine that his eyes will be green just like his fathers.  But you are surprised when he opens them and peers at you for the first time; they are a vivid dark blue.  You stare at each other and your son quietens as he and instantly you love him.  He is something of you and something of Dean and he is perfect.

Dean cries when he first holds him, thanking God that you are both well, your Samuel looks so tiny in his father’s tanned arms.  You are tired and sore but besotted with your new family.  You recover well and enjoy your time with Dean and Samuel.  You thank God every day that Sam thrives, his eyes stay blue but he is so like Dean you chuckle when he mimics his father’s mannerisms. 

Dean works even harder now he has a son; he comes home tired but always with a ready smile, a kiss for you and open arms for Samuel.  The little boy dotes on his father and always smiles whenever he sees Dean.   You both rejoice when he survives the winter and laugh when he in the spring starts to toddle on unsteady feet and you watch as Dean helps him gently holding on to both his hands.

But there is a storm brewing, the country has long been a tinder box waiting to ignite.  You both have listened to the news from Washington, you both agree with the Union.  But the storm breaks and in the space of days the country is at war.  Immediately there are calls for the 1st Kansas Infantry regiment.  You beg Dean not to go, you remind him he has a son and he cannot leave his son.  But he tells you calmly that he cannot be seen to be a traitor, he wants to fight for the cause.

Of course this is Dean; he is a good man who will fight for his beliefs.   You would not love him otherwise.  Your fear makes you rail angrily but Dean kisses you and promises you that he will return to you.  You make love as he kisses this promise all over your body.

You cling to him when he is in your uniform and watch him with tears in your eyes as he kisses his golden haired son goodbye and brushes his hand down your cheek.  He promises that he will return and that he will write when he can and that he loves you utterly.   You cry that you love him and watch him as he trudges off into the distance, off to war.  You realise the idyll is over.

You survive somehow.  You tend to the farm the best you can and you raise your son as you promised Dean you would.  You are haunted by the church every Sunday as you offer your prayers to the young men of the county that have died.  You look to crying wives, mothers and daughters and wonder if you are to join them in grief and mourning black.

The war rolls on and you live for Dean’s letters though now they are more sporadic and you can tell in every line that his heart is heavy.  You work hard every day and manage to just make enough money to keep you and Sam alive.  But it becomes harder; winter is always hard but it is now even more so when food is so sparse and when available so expensive.  Your father who could help you is now sick and you visit him every day but fluid gets on his lungs and he fades away as a feather does in the wind.

You bury your father on a cold New Year’s Day; you cry bitter tears and wish that Dean was there to hold you.  Burying your father brings back all your memories of your youth and when Dean had been courting you, those days seemed so full of love and warm compared to now.  You are chilled to the bone when you trudge back to your little farm and you sit with Samuel in your arms beside the fire whispering Dean’s name over and over again as it would bring him home.

It has been nearly three years that have you seen Dean when Crowley enters your life.  He is a man that you have only known in passing as he has bought your crops.  What little you have to sell he buys at the top price.  But you have never liked him, he watches you with greedy eyes.  His hands linger upon yours when he pays you. 

His voice is silken with false kindness but you dare not offend your best customer.  He is has been buying your produce for months when he makes his first offer.  He offers you more money if you would go to bed with him.  You are outraged and bite angrily that you are a married woman and would never go to bed with him.

Crowley is angry and calls you a measly whore, telling you that he will find somewhere else to buy his produce.  He is deaf to your fearful pleas and storms off, the noise brings Samuel toddling out and you fear that you have been foolish and placed your boy in danger. You lift Samuel up on to your hip and sooth him with a kiss upon his scalp.  Just how will you survive now?

Without Crowley, it gets even harder, you find that you skip meals and give the lion share to Samuel.  You would do anything to make sure that Samuel survives for he is the bit of Dean that remains with you.  Your little boy breaks your heart; Dean has not seen him grow into the beautiful child with sandy long hair and freckles. 

He is a sweet boy who showers affection but is quiet.  He sometimes asks about his father and you read him all Dean’s letters but you are heartbroken that both Samuel and Dean have lost out on these years together.  But you always tell Samuel that his father loves him and will come home.

Crowley makes you struggle for a month before returning.  He buys your produce and laughs at your scrawny figure telling you it could all be so much easier for you if you were not so stubborn.  You look away and he tucks a finger under your chin and forces you to look at him.

You look at him, he is tall and dark with pale skin with hazel eyes that look at you unflinchingly but then he speaks softly which surprises you.   Crowley tells you that he truly wants to help, telling you that you are beautiful and have bewitched him.   He never meant to offend you but he wants to help.  He admires that you fight so hard and that he wishes only to help you.  He admires your boy and wants to keep Samuel healthy and happy.

You blink at that, Sam is always your main priority, he is Dean’s boy and he makes you miss Dean so much.  A tear rolls down your cheek and Crowley catches it he sooths you and tells you everything could be so much easier.   That he understands that you have a husband and he does not seek to step into his shoes.  He hopes that you may open your heart for if you do you will find him very grateful.

He kisses you then and you let him, his tongue feeling foreign in your mouth as his arms wrap around your back.  He ignores the tears that fill your eyes as you lead him to your bed, thankful that Sam is asleep.

It is nothing like when it is with Dean and you are glad, you shut yourself off as Crowley moves inside you, grunting and kissing you sloppily.  Afterwards he kisses you softly and leaves more money for the next four weeks deliveries.  When he is gone you sob with shame.

You need the money otherwise you and Samuel would not survive but you feel the shame eat upside the last part of you that had not been scarred by this war.  You feel as if you are frozen by this war, by Dean leaving you, it has frozen your heart.

Crowley visits you every Thursday like he promised; Samuel plays outside as you take Crowley to bed.  Sometimes he is gentle but sometimes he moves hard and fast, collapsing on you with foul breath that stinks of drink.  When he leaves you sob with shame and beg forgiveness from God.  You think of Dean and cry even more, how can you be ever be proud of the title wife again?

You have no joy anymore; you look at the thin figure when you wash yourself clean in the river.  When Samuel does something clever, you smile but the smile never reaches your tired eyes.   One Thursday Crowley does not turn up, you are confused and wonder if he has found someone new to harass.

You later find out that he has been killed in a tavern brawl between himself and man of a married woman he had used in a similar way to yourself.  You do not grieve as you do not feel anymore, you put the money he gave you somewhere safe, ready to make it last as long as you can.

People in the town stare at you now, they judge you as they suspect what Crowley was doing visiting your farm so often.  But the war has driven all to do something that will haunt them, you know of a few women who have become whores and you tell yourself you only slept with Crowley but wonder if you were truly desperate how far would you go for Samuel?

You return from town with two letters and you sit at the table for a while before you open them as you recognise both the writers.  One is from Crowley who had left instructions in the event of his death that you this letter was to be delivered to you, you find 30 dollars in the envelope and gasp. 

You are struck by the act, he may have treated you with scorn but this act shows that he felt quite deeply for you in his own way.  You feel sad in a way that you never felt anything for him, only disgust and bitterness. 

You feel sick when you see that the other letter is from Dean, he writes that he is well and you breathe a sigh of relief.  He thinks of you constantly and your heart aches because you miss him so much, you stroke the paper as you think that he has touched the same.  But then you retch and then are sick because you have betrayed him.  You think the guilt will overcome you as you go to bed and hug yourself to sleep.

You get up the next day and the day after because a farm will not tend to itself and you have Samuel to look after.  You may have broken your marriage bed but you will not forsake your promise to Dean to look after his son.  You spend the money Crowley gave you wisely and plough the land yourself planting the seeds you bought yourself.  You hear of the battles not far from where you live and you sleep with Samuel curled into you, praying that the battles come nowhere near your farm.

But this solace is ripped from you when one morning you wake to be sick.  Terror strikes your heart as your vision swims, it cannot be.  It cannot be and you try to breath but you cannot, it is like you have forgotten how to take air in your lungs.   Samuel shouts at you and you see the fear in his eyes.  He is only four he doesn’t understand what is happening to his mother and you want to take him into your arms but everything goes black before you can.

When you awake you are in bed and confused momentarily.  Then you remember being sick and the fear in your heart and Samuel’s scared face.  You see that Sarah the older woman from the farm nearby you is by your bedside; she gently lifts your head and encourages you to drink some water.  You ask where Samuel is and she tells you he is in the kitchen quite safe.  Samuel had run all the way to the next farm screaming and crying that his Marmie had died.  Sarah’s husband had ridden them all over here as quick as they could to find you on the floor passed out.

Sarah had told Samuel that you were alive and her husband was currently keeping him entertained the best way an old man from Kansas could do.   You tearfully thank her and she asks you softly how far along you are.  You look up at her in fear and blurt out that you had not realised till this morning that you were with child.

Sarah does not look at you with disgust or judgement, she only asks you when you last bled and together you work out that you are three months gone.  You start to cry again then and she holds you gently as you tell her everything that has happened, how far you have fallen.  Sarah tells you that you cannot change the situation; you did what you thought was best at the time and some actions always have consequences whether good or bad.

The only thing Sarah chastises you for is not coming to seek help from them instead of taking Crowley’s offer.  You let the tears roll down your face, hindsight such a bittersweet thing you find.   You are a young mother who misses her husband but carries another dead man’s child, you realise in Dean leaving you has set you on the path to destruction. 

Your heart is broken and Dean didn’t have to do anything.  You did it all yourself.

Sarah lets you wallow in bed for a few days before coming in and forcing you to get out of bed, telling you that you still have a duty to your worried son.  Samuel, the thought of him being scared has you up out of bed and dressed before Sarah can say anything else.  The little boy looks so pensive and runs into your arms when you go to him.  He cries then and you realise how much the last few months have affected him.  He is cleverer than you give him credit for and you hope this has not chipped his innocence and whisper that you are sorry over and over again into his downy blonde hair.

You take Sarah’s advice and get on with what life has thrown at you, you still tend to the fields and a month later you feel the babe quicken in your womb while you are kneading bread.  You had not thought much about the life in you because it was your constant reminder of shame but now that you feel it flutter you realise it is new life.  It is your child.

While it is also Crowley’s he is dead, this child is yours and you are not quite sure what to think of it, but you do not hate it.  You and Crowley may have sinned but this child is an innocent. You place a hand upon your fluttering belly and allow yourself a soft smile.  Then the moment is over as Sarah bustles in with news that the war is over.

You collapse to your knees in prayer, offering prayers of thanks for this news.  You pray for all of those who have died, for Lincoln for everyone.  But most of all you pray for Dean, you pray that he is safe, that he is on his way home.  Then you look to your belly and sadly note that it will all unravel soon so you pray that whatever comes to pass that Dean is happy and healthy.

He returns on a late summer evening when you are reading to Samuel on the porch.  His beard is longer and his uniform thread bare.  He looks like he has lost some serious weight but you would know your husband anywhere.  He is walking up the little track that leads to your farm and you know that soon you must face the music but it is important that his return be at least a little happy.  You put the book down and whisper to your son who is on your lap that the man walking towards the farm is his father. 

Samuel sits up and asks should he go and hug him, you bite back your tears and tell your son that his father would be very happy if he goes and hugs him.  Samuel slides of your lap and runs off the porch and down the lane.  You watch as Dean’s face lights up as the little boy runs yelling Papa and flies into his arms.  Dean sweeps him up and you wipe away a tear as you see your son and husband regard each other in wonder.

Dean carries Samuel the rest of the way as the little boy chatters, you rise from your chair and look to your five month belly.  There can be no way out of this but you decide to go inside and wait for him.  You make yourself busy making some tea and making some food for Dean when you hear your son’s chatter and your husband’s laugh enter the house.  You freeze when you hear his laugh in your home once again; you close your eyes and bask in the sound.

He is behind you and you savour this last few moments as he calls your name you feel your heart leap in your chest.  It may have nearly been four years but he can still do that to you.  Still manage to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

You turn to him and see his haunted eyes that are wrinkled with smiling; you can tell the war has not been kind to him.  But you watch the smile disappear as he notes your high belly, he pales and almost staggers.  You can see his heart breaking and you it kills you inside that you have done this; you have broken this man’s heart.  Samuel tugs his father’s hand, dragging him to the table and Dean recovers well enough to take his seat. 

You serve him some food and he doesn’t even look at you but you can see he is fighting back something, his throat is swallowing and his eyes look glassy.  Samuel pauses for a second and looks to his mother question why his father is suddenly so sad.  You suggest to Samuel that he goes along to Sarah and tell them their good news.  He brightens at this and runs out the door saying that he will do this and be right back.

Dean then looks at you then with cold angry eyes; he still doesn’t say anything which worries you so you softly tell him that you are sorry.  It is the wrong thing to say, he turns away from you growling demanding to know whose child is in your belly.   You have imagined this moment for the past two months but now you have reached it you are not sure what to say so apologise again. 

His turns around tears drip down his face as he asks you why you could not stay true.  He demands again to know who the father of the bastard in your belly is.  You wrap your arms protectively about your belly.  You let him rail angrily against you as he screams that you are a whore, you try to take a step towards him but quick as a flash his hand shoots out.  You should have expected this but nothing prepares you for the sting of his hand upon your cheek.  You feel your neck snap back and your cheek burn and the force knocks you to the floor.

You start to cry then and look up at him; he looks shocked at what he has done. You cry to him that the war has changed everything.  That while he went off to war to fight for his principles, for your son you gave up some of you own.  You tell him that you never meant any of this to happen, that you love him most of all.  He yells at you that if you loved him you would have never betrayed him like this. 

Hearing these words is your punishment for sleeping with Crowley; you get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness.  You tell him that you never meant for any of this to happen, you tell him how desperate you were.  You tell him about Crowley and how he bought you and that you shamed yourself to put food under your son’s hands.  You find yourself getting angrier and angrier as you stand heavily on your feet, your voice raising you tell him that you did what you could in the war just as he probably had.  You wish you could take everything back, but you can’t.  Dean left, your father died and the winter was harsh and if you had to do it all over again you probably would make the same mistakes if it meant your son would live.

You place a hand upon your belly and tell him that the child is growing in your womb and you cannot do anything about it.  You cannot stop life or fate.  That although the child’s parents are sinners, it is innocent and you will do everything to protect it just as you have with Samuel.  You watch him stand tall, his fists curled into tight balls.   His gaze is cold as he spits out one word.  Whore.

You collapse into sobs then as he walks out the house and slams the door.  It is over; your innocent love from previous summers is over.  The war has destroyed that.  Now all you can do is live with the consequences.

You expect him to leave you but he doesn’t.  He stays but ignores you, he won’t leave Samuel and you fear for a moment that he will take him away from you but you realise he wouldn’t do that to Sam, he wouldn’t take him away from his mother.  You live in silence making his meals and you watch him angrily harvest the crops.

He sleeps by the kitchen fire while you sleep in your marriage bed alone.  You hear his nightmares and long to go to him but know he would shrug you off.  You wish he would rail at you but he won’t even do that.  He shows indifference.

Sundays are even worse.  You have the shame of walking behind him as the congregation look at your high belly and newly returned husband.  Normally the whispers didn’t bother you, but they do now because they are also aimed at Dean who stares straight forward and makes sure there is some distance between you both.  It is you who should carry the shame, not Dean.

You are still utterly in love with him and nearly two months since that fateful day that he returned he finally speaks.  You are restless one night, the baby close on your bladder and have to relieve yourself regularly when you hear him a cry.  You check on Samuel but he is fine, sleeping soundly on his little truckle bed.  You hear another cry and realise it is Dean and wander into the kitchen.

You see him writhing in pain in front of the fire; you go to his side and gingerly kneel by his side.  He has thrown his blanket off him and you see that he is cold.  You gently brush his hair and scalp, calling his name softly telling him to wake up.  He wakes with a start and grabs your wrist and you start immediately and would fall but he stops you.  You stare at each other for a few seconds before he lets go and you pull his blanket over him before getting up, your belly making it hard for you.  You start padding your way back to your bedroom when you hear him softly thank you.  You swallow hard battling tears as you hoarsely reply that he is welcome.

It is an opening to a gentle thaw, he speaks to you now even if it is just to thank you for food in front of Samuel or ask you to wash his shirts.  But he still does not look at you with kind eyes, he looks through you.   You are struggling with this pregnancy, it is making you weary and even simple tasks like hanging up washing are tiring you.   Your first pregnancy you were so happy and carried Samuel in ignorant bliss but as your time approaches you know it will be early winter when the child arrives and you start to fear for your life as many mothers and children die in winter childbirths.

You are trudging back to house after hanging Dean Shirts when you feel your legs go to jelly; you stumble and prepare yourself to hit the ground when arms grab you from behind.  You look and see his green eyes are narrowed with concern.  He wraps an arm around your waist and guides you back into the house.  He shushes your protests and sits you in a chair getting some cold water for you to sip on.  He then makes sure you lie down to rest and only then does he return to his work.  You drift off to sleep with the memory of his warm hands upon your waist.

The next Sunday he watches as you walk towards the church and flinch at the whispers of the people.  He stops and glares at the people before offering you his arm and guides you into the church.  The townspeople are shocked and so are you but you find that he also sits beside you in church with Samuel on his knee during the service.

You find you are dancing around each other more in the house, he catches you stealing looks and you find you are blushing when he does.  You are still as besotted and you find that he no longer stares through you when you speak to each other.  In the evenings he sits silently watching you as you read to Samuel before bed.  As Samuel’s head lolls, Dean smiles and tucks him into his arms and carries him sleepily to bed.  He then returns to help you out of the chair; you smile softly and thank him.  You go to your bedroom door and bid him goodnight and see that he is watching you.

The next day you feel well enough to take him some a drink, he is still working on the fields that were overwrought with weeds in his absence.   It is late autumn now but he has worked himself into a sweat and has discarded his jacket to wear only his shirt.  Even heavily pregnant you find he stirs you and you watch his muscles which had built back up working hard in his back.  He looks to you and smiles at your offering of a drink and you watch with lazy eyes as his throat moves as he swallows the water.  He looks to you with surprised eyes and you look away chastising yourself because he looks at you like a whore.   You make your excuses to go back to the house, mentioning that you should let him get back to his work and turn to go before his hand grabs your wrist.

You turn back and find hands clamping your face and he is kissing you and it is like the first rain after a long drought.  You throw your arms around his sweating neck and his him passionately, his tongue seeks access to your mouth and you willingly give it whimpering.  You break off only because you breathe and he leans his forehead against yours as you gaze into each other’s eyes.  You ask him if he can do two favours of you.  He looks puzzled but nods, you ask him to take your bed and burn it for it is your bed no longer and build a new one.  He nods and says he will do this and demands your second task, you breathe on to his lips asking him to come to join you in the new bed.

He smiles and kisses you again.  He sets to it straight away, abandoning the field to finding wood. Over the next two days he builds a new bed and burns the old one.  It is night time on the second day that it is ready and you are lying on your backs in your bed.  It feels new to you both despite the fact you have been married nearly six years you have not spent much in your marriage bed.

He turns over on to his side and gazes at you; he surprises you by asking for forgiveness.  You gasp and tell him he doesn’t need to but he cuts you off and explains that he does.  He abandoned you and you argue that the war wasn’t his fault but again he shakes his head and puts a finger upon your lips.  He tells you he wasn’t on about the war he abandoned you after the war.  He abandoned the woman he loved, the mother of his child.  The child she went to such lengths to protect.

You find tears slipping down your cheeks as he speaks and he brushes them away gently, cupping your cheek.  He asks if you ever can forgive him and you cut him off by kissing him and saying sorry in between kisses.  He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug before asking you what ideas you had for names for the baby.  You stare at him in wonder and he trails his hand down to your belly informing you that family don’t just end with blood.  That is his child growing in there, a brother or sister for Samuel.  You start to sob then, all too much for you and he hugs you harder, kissing your hair and soothing you into sleep.

The first snows come and you find yourself dreamily watching the snow when the first pains come.  You send Dean to go and get Sarah but you know something is wrong, the pains are coming too quickly and when they come they feel like they are ripping you apart.  You look to your legs and see that as well as the clear fluid there is also more blood than the last time.   Dean returns back with Sarah and you see instantly that they are both concerned, Dean sends for a doctor.  Samuel asks what is wrong and Dean ushers him to the kitchen and to his toys.

Sarah becomes fearful for you very quickly, you have only been in labour a short while and already want to push.  Sarah says there is too much blood and you are in so much pain, all you want is the child out now.  Your cries bring Dean charging in with the doctor, the doctor examines you and tells you that the baby is trapped and cannot get out naturally.  You moan in pain and Dean grips your hand as Sarah brings in hot water and the doctor gets out a scalpel and needle and thread.  You look to Dean fearfully but he brushes your hair and tells you everything will be fine.

You believe him until the pain of the first incision, you clamp down on Dean’s hand and feel your vision fade to dark, Dean’s voice ringing in your head.  You believe this is what it must be like to die.

There is a glare from the snow and the room is filled with bright light as you open your eyes.  You wince instantly from the pain in your abdomen but not as bad as when you were last awake.   You are fully prepared to be told your baby is dead.  You blink at the surroundings before you hear a snuffling sound from nearby.  You look to see Dean sitting beside you in a rocking chair cradling something in his arms gently humming to it.  You croak his name and he looks to you and you see him sigh in relief before asking you whether you would like to meet your daughter.

You blink back tears as you watch him he gently sits on the bed beside you and places the child in your arms, she is beautiful.  She has a crown of jet black hair but that is all she has inherited from Crowley.  Everything else is you, right down to the blue eyes that watch you; you let her tiny hand grasp your finger.  Dean then asks what is his daughter’s name and you look to this marvellous man, this good honest man and wonder if he is too good for you.

War has cast many scars but you truly feel like you have come out the other side.   Dean has forgiven you and you have forgiven him.   You ask Dean whether he would like to name her, handing her back to him gently.  He takes her ever so gently into his arms and calls Samuel in who comes running to the door then changes to a sedate pace when he sees his mother.  You smile and it encourages him to come and sit on the bed beside you.  Dean looks to Sam smiling and introduces him to his sister.

Hope.


	9. Part Eight- Germany- 1943

You hate yourself.  By following orders, by following what society expects of you because of fear.  Because if anyone knows what you are, you will end up in the camps that you yourself guard.  You know you will go to hell because you never speak up as you watch people suffer. 

But you fear, you fear for your family who know nothing and would be shamed and in danger if anyone was to find out that you were gay.  A gay German soldier going against all of your beliefs that you were brought up to believe because you are scared so much.  You watch Jews, poles, gypsies go into these camps and you watch and guard them while they are starved, beaten and degraded in such ways you feel sick.

Men who are like you, homosexual are also in these camps and it is these men that you watch with a broken heart but also with fear.  You see how they are treated in the camp, they are beaten and treated cruelly not only by the Germans but by fellow inmates.  They are used as slave labour, making boots for the German Army and have to test them out on ragged sharp pavements over and over again.  You hear horror stories of men being castrated and you see them die and you feel ashamed because you hide everything and stand by and watch people suffer because you are a coward.

You don’t even believe in the Reich, you only do it because you are young man and are expected to fight.  It is expected of you and it would be better if you were on the frontline but instead they have assigned you this camp.  Extermination through labour, you make the prisoners work in factories and on the roads.  You give them minimum food and no medical care.  Disease is rife and hundreds die every month. 

You are haunted every night by the faces of those prisoners, they look at you in fear but they do not realise how scared you are.  You shut yourself and follow your orders which are mainly to stand guard, you thank God every day that you have not had to torture anyone like other guards seem to enjoy doing.

It is while you are on guard in one of the towers on the perimeter of the camp when you see him arrive.  You watch the new arrivals trundle in, wearing their civilian clothes that will be taken from them. Their hair shall be shaved and they will be expected to wear a uniform and an identification number tattooed into their skin.

It is when you see him.  You have not seen him for five years but he has not changed at all.   That defiant glare and jut of his jaw you would recognise anywhere.  He was your best friend through school being neighbours in your little village.  He had gone to travel while you had stayed; you had shared nearly everything together at one time.  You could never imagine him being here and wonder if he is part of the German Resistance.

Your late mother would have despaired you think.  She loved Dean and encouraged you to play together as children.  You helped each other through school and while you are were quiet he was boisterous and loud.   But you can tell by the way that he bites his jaw down he is nervous, you could always read him so well.  He is always special in your memory for he was the boy who made you realise that you desired men.  Though you never acted upon it.

It feels like ice is slicing your heart as you realise he is now a prisoner in the camp that you guard.  You see him again the next morning and you see him start in surprise when he sees you.  You feel your cheeks burn with shame as his eyes narrow at your uniform.  His head has been shaven and he wears the striped uniform of the camp but his triangle that identifies which category of undesirable surprises you. 

You have been taught all the triangles, red for political, black for asocial, pink for homosexuals, brown for gypsies.  Yellow triangles mean that they are Jews.  You expect Dean’s to be red for political but it is pink for homosexual.  You see him watch you as you stand to attention.  Your captain tells the prisoners they are to be put to work and you are assigned to guard them as they are sent out into the fields.  They work all day in hot sun with no water and you watch as some prisoners faint and other guards kick at them to get back to work.

Dean does not faint, only sometimes wavering but he digs into the ground defiantly.  At the end of the day they are allowed water before being locked back in their cabins.  The commander of the camp orders that the new prisoners are to do this for the next week.  It is hot five days out of the seven and five of the prisoners collapse and later die.  Dean trudges on with a blank face, never showing any emotion to the guards and barely looking at you.

Extermination by labour. 

Two months later and neither you or Dean have spoken to each other.  But it changes when Dean reports to the lines ready to go to fields with bruises all over his face.  You learn that he was insubordinate to an officer when he helped a fellow inmate back last night and was punished for it.  You feel a flare towards the person responsible for the beatings but it was an officer’s order.  You are here to follow orders.

You wonder what your mother would think of you.  You think of Dean and you pray for guidance every night and as you give out the food rations one day you find yourself serving Dean.  You are meant to give one spoonful of the porridge but you give Dean two.  Nobody says anything and Dean looks at you with a questioning glance.  You raise an eyebrow and then look to the next person in the line.

Over the months that lead into winter you find yourself helping him more.  You make sure he gets the bread that has the least mould on it.  The most water, the better condition clothes.  He is still relatively small but not malnourished.   You know that your actions will probably draw suspicion but every time you help him you imagine your mother smile.

He looks at you with grateful eyes that become fonder and fonder as the time goes by.  But still you have not actually spoken to each other.  You knew each other as children and were once friends but now you are practically strangers.  

And yet every glance you chance at each other is a conversation of itself.  You look to make sure he has survived each day and he looks for you each morning.  You find the old feelings you felt for him in your teenage years resurface.  He was a beautiful youth and even now is a beautiful man despite the fact a cough rattles his chest.  The winter is getting colder and his chest gets worse.

The captain orders you to write down all the names of the sick as they are going to be moved to another camp.  You blood runs cold as your commander informs you that if they are sick they cannot do their work so they must go.  You have heard of bigger camps to the east where the sick are sent to and they do not come back.

In desperation you sneak into the hospital unit of the camp which is mainly for soldiers, when the doctors are not looking you steal some antibiotics.  You have the medicine now all you need is the patient.  Dean is marching back after a day on the boot tracks and he looks like death, you shout at him angrily ordering him to come to you.   He does trying to hurry; the other guards jeer at him and salute you.  You inwardly wince but yell to them that you want to teach the boy a lesson for not being quick enough and your comrade’s laugh and march away with the other prisoners.

Dean looks at you and you see the hurt in his eyes, he too has fallen for your act.  You wait for everyone to be out of sight before handing him the medicine.  He looks at you and you see him swallow before asking you why you are doing this.  You smile softly and tell him that he was once your friend and you cannot abandon him.  He shakes his head softly and tells you that wasn’t what he meant; he wants to know why you are a soldier for a Reich that hates your kind.

He knows that you are also gay and you panic slightly stepping back from him.  He tells you not to panic, that he would not tell anyone ever.  That he always suspected as children, that you were the reason he realised he was gay.  You shake your head and look about fearfully and tell him that the main reason for being how you are is because you fear what would happen if your commanders would find out.

Dean nods.  He understands your fear but wonders if you are truly being you, you only get one life and are you truly living yours.  You shake your head and tell him it is foolish, these are desperate times and everyone is trying to survive.  He tells you that you cannot have it both ways; you cannot help him and be a soldier of the Reich.  You cannot be both and soon you will have to choose.

Before you can reply you comrades and he looks at you sadly, he tells you that you will have to mark him if your fellow soldiers will believe that you have taught him a lesson.    You blink back tears as you watch him steady yourself.  You punch him in the stomach before hitting in the face, each strike a strike to your own heart. 

Dean walks back to his barracks with a black eye and a bleeding lip.   You go back with a crack in your resolve.

The medicine comes too late, the commander has put Dean’s name on the list of those to be transported.  He is to be transported in two days’ time and your blood runs cold.  You cannot march Dean onto those trains, the trains that will take him away to his death.  You couldn’t do it to Dean and you know realise you will never be able to do it to another soul. 

It is night and you abandon your post to go and find Dean, you go to his cabin and order him to wake up.  Everyone wakes but you bark an order for them to shut up and sleep, the commander wants Dean and nobody is to make a noise.  Dean looks at you suspiciously but comes to you slowly.

You grab him by the arm and start marching him through the camp, you tell him to be quiet when he tries to ask questions.  He tries to wrestle so you throw him into a darkened space between buildings and tell him you are getting him out of the camp.  That he needs to be quiet and play along and that you have not got much time.  You are going to march him right out of the camp.

He starts babbling asking you if you are coming for you have deserted the army now. You cannot hide from the wrath that will follow you.  You shake your head and tell him that you cannot go with him, that you will seek your punishment as penance for what you have turned a blind eye to.

He shakes his head furiously and refuses to go without you, he grasps your face and stares into your eyes and begs that you come with him.  That you can be together somehow if you can get over the border into Switzerland you will be safe.  That he is sick and needs help getting there, he needs you.

You do not say anything, just stare at his face and fist your hands into his uniform, into his pink triangle.  Tears fill your eyes and you do not know what to say.  Dean doesn’t expect you to say anything and so presses his lips to yours.  They are dry and chapped so you respond so gently ever so gently as he sucks on your lip and gains access to your mouth.

But by kissing him you have sealed your fate.  You are so lost in Dean you swear your heart stops when a light is flashed on you and angry voices order you to halt.  It happens so quickly, arms grab you and pin your arms behind your back.  You are punched and you feel your nose break, you look to Dean who is currently being punched and kicked to the ground and you cry out.   You try and scrabble to him but your vision flashes white then black as the butt of a rifle connects with your skull.

When you awake you are tied to a chair, you blink and see your commanding officer coolly appraising you.  He asks you if you have gone mad, he now sees the reason for your change in behaviour.  He tells you that they have long suspected you of having sympathy for the prisoners but had never imagined that it could be just one man.  He rises and nods to a soldier behind him who slaps you firmly; your officer asks you how long you have helping Dean.

You reply not long enough which rewards you with a punch in the stomach, because you are tied to the chair you cannot protect yourself and you retch and wheeze, winded.  The officer stands and sighs, telling you that it is a shame because you will die and so will your precious Dean.

You laugh manically and cry out that you do not care for you will be going to a better place.  That any place, whether be eternal hell would be better than serving the Reich.  You would rather be yourself now in your last moments than serve the evil regime that has murdered thousands.

Your comrades beat you before ripping your uniform off you, leaving you only your shirt and trousers.   They shave off your thick dark blonde hair, not caring if they nick your scalp.  Blood runs down your face and you close your eyes and start to say the Lord ’s Prayer.

_Vater unser im Himmel,_  
 _geheiligt werde dein Name;_  
 _dein Reich komme;_  
 _dein Wille geschehe,_  
 _wie im Himmel so auf Erden._  
 _Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute._  
 _Und vergib uns unsere Schuld,_  
 _wie auch wir vergeben unsern Schuldigern;_  
 _und führe uns nicht in Versuchung,_  
 _sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen._  
  
 _Denn dein ist das Reich und die Kraft_  
 _und die Herrlichkeit in Ewigkeit._

_Amen._

You are still praying when they drag you outside.  It is dawn now and you know where they are marching you to.  It is where they execute those prisoners who dare to try and escape.  Both guards and prisoners watch you in silence as you continue to pray.  When you get to the poles you see that they are already chaining Dean to one pole.  His eyes meet yours and he gives a smile.  

For the first time for years you are being yourself.  You are dying for what you believe in.  You believe in love.  In humanity.   You love Dean and while you wish you could have saved him, you can see heaven in his eyes.

While they are chaining you to the pole you look to him and thank him.  He has stripped away all the façade and fear.  It is almost like you are not here in a camp, but back when you were young and staring at each other in the golden fields of your home town.  You remember you would spend hours just lying staring at each other.  You were in love even then.

You chance a look to the squad lined up with rifles awaiting their order to fire.  You look to Dean and raise your hand to him.  You regret so much now, you wish you had more time with him that you had at least kissed him one more time.  So in your final moments you hold out his hand to him.  He smiles through eyes watery and takes your hand.  You do not look at the men who will kill you.  You want his face to be the last thing that you will see.

The officer orders that the men shoot and you tell Dean that you love him.  As the shots ring out the last thing you see before you fade away are his green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the hardest stories I had to write and research for.
> 
> If you would like to know more about the Holocaust- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Holocaust


	10. Epilogue

You remember everything now, everything that has passed.  You had thought that you had not been on Earth for two thousand years but those memories have been lost.  You realise that every time you must have been dragged to heaven, your memories wiped and told again to obey.  But each time you are inadvertently been tied to Dean and his soul.

You wonder if he has all been a test, every time leading you to this moment.  Have Heaven and the Host been trying and trying again to rip you from Dean.  Will they rip you away again?  You look at this Dean, this righteous man.  You recognise parts of all his previous selves in the current one.  Loyalty of the Pharaoh, the passion of the Gladiator and the love of a daughter.  The forgiveness of a husband betrayed and bravery of a man willing to risk everything for what he believed in.

Kindness, Love, Loyalty, Friendship, Passion is what makes Dean…Dean.  And you love all of it; you are in love with him.  This hunter who has never given up on you, who tells you repeatedly that he needs you despite the fact you never really believed it till now. You also realise just how much you also need him.

But everything has led to this moment right now.  A warehouse two angels and two hunters and a very hard decision to be made.

Naomi demands you to return to Heaven forever or you sacrifice your grace.  It is a choice; it is either being an angel and Heaven or choosing a mortal life with Dean.   Sam looks pained to Dean who is shaking his head and telling Naomi to go fuck herself.   Who is she to demand that of you?

Naomi smiles slyly and tells you to make your choice.  She thinks you will choose Heaven and thus break Dean’s heart.  With his heart broken he will not be a threat, she hopes to lock you away in a part of Heaven where no one will find you.  Either that or she will kill you.  You have proven that you cannot be controlled.

Dean whispers to you his voice full of emotion; he shakes his head whispering Cas.  He cannot say anything else, only stares at the ground as Sam talks quickly saying there has to be another way.  You watch Dean the whole time as you see tears roll down his face.  Naomi watches carefully as you walk up to him.

You tell him to look at you but he shakes his head, stubbornly looking at the ground.  Look at me you order again.  He looks up and he starts as you place your hand upon his cheek, ironic that the last time you did this you were healing him after you had half beat him to death.  He hoarsely says it is ok, that he understands you deserve to go home you deserve to be happy.

Even now he amazes you, you can see his heart breaking and all he thinks of is you.  You same his name like every other time, one word that means so many things.  Those green eyes look at you and they are not guarded.  They show his fear, his fear that you are going to leave him and he needs you. 

Naomi calls you telling you your time is over, you must make your choice.  You let go of Dean’s cheek and turn from him when you hear him say Goodbye Cas.  You gasp and immediately turn back to him grabbing his face and place a chaste kiss upon his lips.  He gasps as your break off but you do not look at him you walk to Naomi.

You have made you choice and you glare at Naomi as you reach within yourself at that light within you, you focus all those memories and push them into the part of your grace that holds a tiny part of Dean’s soul.  You hope that together with your memories it will grow a soul of your own.  Then you push at the light and begin to rip it free.

The pain is nothing like you have ever experience.  You see Naomi’s face transform into anger as she realises what you are doing.  You hear Dean screaming your name and know that Sam is holding him back.  Naomi orders you to stop what you are doing and tries to stop you but your force the energy of your grace into her path.   The purity of Grace is not supposed to be used as a weapon but it has the desired effect and burns Naomi out of her vessel and the last thing you hear before you pass out is her screams along with your own as you feel your wings burn away.

The first thing you learn about mortality is that injuries takes longer to recover from and you feel tired.  You whole body aches and your throat burns with thirst as you open your eyes.  You are not sure where you are it is not a motel room but a comfy bed and Dean is asleep in a chair beside you.  He looks so peaceful and you feel your heart swell with affection now feeling even deeper as a human than it did an angel. 

You gingerly sit yourself up and drink some water that has been left by your beside.  You don’t want to disturb Dean so you are quite content to sit and watch him.  Finally he stirs and opens his eyes and blinks when he sees you lazily watching him.

In a second he is by your side asking if you are alright, if you need anything to eat anything to relieve the pain.  You smile and shake your head saying you are alright; all you need is a bit of time.  You ask him where you are and he explains that he has brought you the lair of the men of letters.  He tells you about Henry Winchester and how they found this undercover lair that has become home.

There is silence between you and he looks to you and asks why you did it.  Why did you rip out your grace and choose him.  You smile and say is it not obvious, that you are in love with him.  That you could not imagine a world without Dean that everything you have done has always been because of him and for him.  How could you choose heaven when you have discovered something even better?

He looks at you stunned how on earth could he be worth the love of an angel he asks.  You tell him that he is worth all that and more.  That you are sorry that you ignored him so many times when he said that he needed you.  But now you are here, you are never going to leave him.  Now it runs both ways, you need him also.

Tears on his face he grabs you and plunges his lips upon yours.  You kiss back passionately threading your fingers through the hair and clinging to his neck.  You pull him closer to you as he seeks entrance to your mouth, trailing his tongue on your lips.  Together you fall down on to the bed, hands wandering over each other’s bodies. 

His mouth finds your neck and you arch up into the sensation of it upon your new mortal flesh, you moan and gasp and feel desire flooding your veins.  You gasp his name as you clasp hands and he kisses you again, breathing upon your lips that he loves you.

He loves you.

He won’t ever let you go.  Your new soul pulsates with love, you new soul made with part of Dean’s.  You are truly soul mates.

 _Let me not to the marriage of true minds_ __  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! It is an ever-fixèd mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved

_William Shakespeare_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed the story....ok *goes to hide*


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